


We Lose Control

by bepreparedf0rhell



Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Blood, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fear, Kinktober 2020, Knives, M/M, Necrophilia, Pseudo Necrophilia, nothing here is happy, technically snuff too, there's a little uhh humor at the end but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bepreparedf0rhell/pseuds/bepreparedf0rhell
Summary: “Rick, you’re… you’re scaring me,” Justin whispers, andRicky can’t do anything but smile down at him.“I’m scaring me too,” he returns quietly, pulling his otherhand out from behind his back. Justin’s eyes go wide as hetakes in the long serrated knife that’s clutched in Ricky’s fingers.orIn which Ricky's got needs, Justin wants to help him fill them, and then everything just falls off the rails.
Relationships: Justin Morrow/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Series: Kinktober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954528
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8
Collections: Friends in Sin Kinktober 2020





	We Lose Control

**Author's Note:**

> So. I kind of failed kinktober a little, especially because this was supposed to be the last prompt for next Saturday. It's done now, though, so I'm posting it now. PLEASE read the tags. It's dark, nothing about it is happy, and it definitely involves one of them Discontinuing The Life of The Other. 
> 
> sorry mom, sorry god, and y'know, sorry justin.

As Ricky sits and waits for Justin, his hands shake. He’s nervous - much more nervous than he would’ve expected. He’d wanted this. In fact, it had been entirely his idea. He’d been a little surprised when Justin had agreed - Justin was into weird shit, but Ricky’d been kind of convinced this might be too weird. But no, Justin had immediately texted him back with an affirmative. Ricky had asked again, outlined the entire plan. Again, Justin had agreed. 

Now that it’s time, though, Ricky’s still halfway certain that Justin’s going to get there, going to see the shit Ricky’s got laid out and back out, which will be fine. Massively disappointing at this point, but fine. 

Ricky’s aware this isn’t necessarily ‘normal’, not that he’s entirely sure what that word applies to anymore anyway. In fact, even Chris had denied him of it years before when he’d asked, and Chris is usually down for literally anything. 

It’s been years and Ricky’s been looking, looking for someone to let him live out probably his deepest, darkest fantasy. And then there he was - Justin Morrow, stumbling into Ricky’s life and tripping over everything he can as he goes, but still useful in just about every way. He can reach the top shelf, can lift heavy shit when Ricky can’t, is one of the only people who can drink and smoke Ricky under the table, and he’s down for weird shit in bed. What more could anyone ask for? 

Justin’s knock makes Ricky jump about a foot in the air. He’d been so lost in his thoughts that he’d almost forgotten it _is_ actually real. It’s happening.

Ricky sighs, stands and moves to the door. He swings it open, smiling up at Justin. 

“Hi,” Ricky whispers, breathless. Justin smiles back, steps into the living room.

“Hi,” he says, and immediately Ricky thinks he looks nervous too. His eyes are kinda shifty, and Ricky’s pretty sure his hand shakes as he puts it on his shoulder and bends down to kiss him quickly on the lips. 

“Thanks for, uh, doing this,” Ricky mumbles, feeling oddly shy suddenly. He’s not sure why; this is just Justin. Justin who’s seen him naked more times than he can count, Justin who’d fucked him up against a window in the bus and gotten the cops called on them by passing traffic. Justin. _His_ Justin. 

“Sure. Just tell me what you want me to do,” Justin says, and even though he looks nervous, he doesn’t sound it. His voice is calm, steady, and Ricky nods and takes a deep breath. 

“Just go into the bedroom and get on the bed. I’ll be in in a minute,” Ricky tells him, and he nods. 

“You want me to, uh, y’know…” Justin trails off, and Ricky nods back. 

“Yeah. Please.”

Justin nods a single time and turns toward the bedroom, taking a few steps before hesitation gets the best of Ricky and he calls out to him.

“J, wait.”

Justin turns around, an eyebrow raised. 

“Are you sure this isn’t too… too much?” Ricky asks, and Justin closes the gap between them once more and bends down, catching Ricky’s lips with the exact opposite kiss as the one he’d hit him with when he’d first walked in. He takes Ricky’s face in his hands tightly and kisses him, biting his bottom lip roughly. Ricky groans involuntarily, standing on his tiptoes to get the best angle he possibly can. He bites Justin back, his hands grabbing at anything they can. Justin’s long fingers make their way down to Ricky’s crotch, giving it a little squeeze through his jeans. Ricky whines again, breaking the kiss. 

“I’m sure,” Justin tells him, winking. Ricky nods, absolutely positive that his cheeks are flushed and his lips are coated in Justin’s black lipstick. 

“O-okay.”

Justin smiles, turning back towards the bedroom. Once he’s out of sight, Ricky sighs again. Okay. This is happening. It’s really happening.

Ricky follows Justin to the bedroom but doesn’t walk in just yet. Instead, he listens as Justin prepares. There’s the distinct sound of one or both of his shoes hitting the wall as he kicks them off and then the rustle of his clothes being discarded. Ricky’d asked him to put them away somewhere he couldn’t see them, and the creak of the closet door tells him he’s doing just that. A moment later, Ricky hears a soft grunt and the sound of the bed moving, and then silence. 

“Okay,” Ricky whispers, taking one more deep breath before walking into the room. Sure enough, Justin’s sprawled across the bed completely naked, his eyes closed serenely. Ricky’s honestly a little surprised that Justin’s able to be so still, but not surprised at all to see that his dick’s already hard between his legs. It looks like maybe he’d tried to force it down a little, but it still catches Ricky’s gaze and holds it for a second. 

Ricky’s heart races as he stops at the tv stand across from the bed, clicking on the camera he’s got set up there. He thumbs through a few settings, waiting until the light is on and he’s sure it’s recording before he moves to the corner of the room and also turns on the camera he’d placed there on a tripod. He checks them both once more just to make sure and then makes his way to the bedside, looking down at Justin. 

“Such a pretty boy,” Ricky whispers, brushing a piece of his grown-out blue hair out of his face. Justin’s eyes twitch but he doesn’t open them, and Ricky pauses for a moment to make sure he’s settled. When he seems to be, Ricky takes one of his arms and straps it into the restraint he’d haphazardly attached to the side of the bed. They weren’t pretty, but he’d managed it, and Justin’s wrist fits inside the cuff just fine. He straps in both his ankles and his other arm as well, stepping back to take a look at his handiwork. Oh yeah, this’ll work. 

Ricky blinks hard, stretches the muscles in his neck, and then carefully steps out of his own clothes. He folds them all into a neat pile and puts them on the dresser, watching Justin the entire time. Unless he squints, he can barely tell he’s breathing. He’s much better at this than Ricky had expected, and he can already feel different things building inside his head. He’s not even done anything yet, but the sight of Justin just helplessly lying there strapped to the bed… it’s something else. 

Ricky traces a couple of fingers up Justin’s shin, smiling when goosebumps rise up over his skin. Justin’s ticklish, Ricky knows this, so he’ll have to be careful with the light touches, but he can’t help but get a few in where he can. He stops his fingers at Justin’s knee, placing his palm flat on it, letting his hand wander further up. Justin’s dick twitches between his legs and Ricky’s mimics the movement at once. He slides his way up and around Justin’s hip, landing in the soft hair below his navel. Justin’s breath hitches just slightly, even though his eyes are still obediently closed and Ricky takes a deep breath. 

Ricky leaves Justin, going to grab a bottle of lube from the nightstand. He slicks his fingers down with it and grasps his own dick tightly, stroking it a couple of times before making his way around to his true destination. He’s so keyed up and turned on already that he knows he won’t need too much warming up, and he desperately wishes he could use Justin’s fingers to do it somehow. The logistics don’t quite fit though; there’s no way he could position himself and then haul Justin’s arm around _and_ guide his fingers. The realization frustrates him, making him shove two of his own fingers inside himself at once, groaning lightly as he feels himself stretching around them. He glances at Justin, working himself open as he keeps his eyes on the prize he’s about to have. 

Finally, he feels like he’s ready. He turns and checks that both of the cameras are still on and then climbs onto the bed clumsily, feeling like there’s not a drop of blood in his brain. He straddles Justin, immediately taking note of the fact that he feels cold, probably because all his blood’s concentrated in his crotch too, but it’s enough that it makes Ricky even more ready. 

He puts his hands on Justin’s thighs, struggling to resist the urge to lean down and bite them. He’s afraid Justin would have too much of a reaction to it, and it takes him a second but he manages to force the urge to pass. Instead, he raises himself up and grabs Justin’s dick, positioning it where it needs to be. As soon as the tip even just barely touches Ricky, he lets out this breathy whine that he knows would usually make Justin just grab his hips and shove him down the rest of the way. Justin seems to also be resisting his urges, because he doesn’t move a muscle and Ricky is able to lower himself slowly, gently onto Justin’s dick. It’s agonizing for both of them, he’s sure, but it feels so good that it doesn’t even matter. 

Once he’s fully down on Justin’s dick, Ricky closes his eyes and just sits there for a second. God, it’s good. He feels like he’s full to bursting with Justin’s dick buried deep inside him, and he almost just wants to stay right there and forget the whole thing. Part of him wants to lean down and kiss Justin’s lips gently and tell him fuck it, he wants his arms around him. He doesn’t do that, though. It’s too late now. He knows if he stops now and doesn’t go through with it, he’ll just want it more. So, he does just that - he goes through with it. 

Ricky moves himself up and down on Justin’s dick slowly, his hands planted firmly on Justin’s hips. He keeps that pace for a little while, watching as Justin’s chest starts rising and falling faster and faster. Ricky can feel Justin’s dick twitching and pulsing inside of him and it makes it hard to concentrate, but somehow he’s got enough brain power to reach up and take his own dick in his hand, stroking it in time with his bounces. 

Minutes pass and somehow Justin’s still got his eyes closed even though now he’s practically moaning in time with Ricky’s movements, and Ricky can feel the charade slowly slipping away as Justin clearly gets close to the edge. 

“Shut up,” Ricky grumbles, his tone rougher than he’d meant for it to be. It works, though - Justin clamps his lips shut and keeps them that way, and Ricky can see he’s biting the inside of his lip so hard that he’s probably drawing blood. 

Ricky keeps moving, keeps riding Justin’s dick like his life depends on it while also tugging his own so intently that his hand’s falling asleep. Justin pulls in a sharp breath and Ricky knows he’s about to come. 

“Don’t fucking do it,” he mumbles. “Not before me.”

He takes his hand off his dick and reaches for Justin’s throat, leaning down towards it as much as he can and wrapping his fingers around it, squeezing. Justin’s breathing changes again, almost ragged now. Ricky stops his movements, shoving himself down onto Justin’s dick and staying there. Crimson creeps up Justin’s neck and Ricky knows he’s squeezing too hard, but somehow he can’t help it. Justin chokes a little, his eyes flashing open, deep brown and wide with fear behind them that Ricky hadn’t expected to see. Ricky’s fingers fly off of Justin at once, and he looks at them almost as if they’d betrayed him. 

“Jesus,” Justin whispers, clearing his throat and sniffling as he looks up at Ricky. “I…”

He doesn’t seem to know the end of the sentence, and neither does Ricky. It doesn’t matter.

“Do you want to stop?” Ricky asks, and Justin doesn’t skip a beat before shaking his head. 

“No.”

Ricky nods and gets right back to it, riding Justin’s dick with the new added bonus of Justin pushing up into him as much as he can with his ankles still restrained. Justin’s even closer than before; Ricky can tell by the flush of his face and the erratic way he’s moving his hips, and suddenly Ricky’s plan changes. In fact, it turns into something else altogether. It turns, he’s pretty sure, into what it was always supposed to be. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you. You can come now. Please,” Ricky whines, and after a few more thrashy movements, Justin complies. His orgasm explodes and his eyes close blissfully, his eyebrows knit together in pleasure as he calls out, practically screaming Ricky’s name. 

Quite honestly, Ricky’s barely paying attention. All he cares about is that Justin got to come. Usually, Ricky would move up and down him a few more times to help bring him back down or maybe even clean him up with his mouth, but at this point he’s only got one plan in mind and it doesn’t include either of those things. Instead, he moves himself up on shaky legs and gets off the bed completely. Justin’s eyes whip open, confusion clear in them.

“What-. Oh, fuck. I ruined it, didn’t I?” Justin asks, and Ricky shakes his head.

“No, you didn’t,” he mumbles before turning and walking out of the room. He can hear Justin talking, but can’t concentrate on him. When he walks back into the room a minute later, Justin looks confused but not altogether unhappy. 

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Justin asks when he gets a good look at Ricky’s face, and it’s not surprising that he’s able to detect a change in it. Ricky himself can feel the change like someone had just reached into his brain and flipped a switch he hadn’t even known existed. 

He feels like his whole body’s on fire, his mind only consumed with a singular thought. He wants to get off, but not just that. He wants to get off, and he wants it properly. No chance of Justin breathing or moaning or talking through it. Ricky doesn’t want a game - he wants the real thing. 

“Just hold still,” he says quietly, reaching up to smooth down a stray strand of Justin’s hair.

“Rick, you’re… you’re scaring me,” Justin whispers, and Ricky can’t do anything but smile down at him.

“I’m scaring me too,” he returns quietly, pulling his other hand out from behind his back. Justin’s eyes go wide as he takes in the long serrated knife that’s clutched in Ricky’s fingers. 

“Rick,-” he starts, but Ricky shushes him.

“I love you,” he whispers, and Justin shakes his head. 

“No. This isn’t funny anymore. Get me out of these fucking things,” Justin says, and Ricky can hear the panic rising in his voice as he struggles against his restraints. In the beginning, Ricky almost hadn’t even bothered with the restraints, not sure if they’d be important. Looking back, he’s sure glad past him had decided to go with them. He’s not entirely sure he could do this without them. Normally Justin could’ve overpowered him easily in almost any situation. Now, though? Now Justin’s restrained and Ricky’s the only one calling any of the shots. 

“I’m not laughing,” Ricky informs him, shaking his head. “I don’t find it funny in the least and I never did.”

“Rick, please, I…” Justin trails off, and Ricky shakes his head again. Justin’s eyes grow even wider as Ricky raises the blade above his head and, without letting himself stop to think about it at all, drives it down into Justin’s gut. Justin gasps, all the color draining from his face at once.

“Please…” he whispers again as Ricky plunges the knife into his torso again and again, as many times as it takes for him to stop moving. Ricky’s got no idea how many wounds there are, but it’s a significant amount; the white sheets are absolutely covered in blood and it’s splattered onto the floor and even dots itself up Ricky’s body. 

Ricky knows what he’s going to do next, what he has to do next, but before he does it, he steps over to the dresser and fishes his phone out of his jeans pocket. The voice on the other end answers after a few rings, and Ricky almost can’t even remember why he’d called. 

“What’s up, dude? Dude..? Rick, you there?”

On the third try, Ricky finally remembers. 

“I need your help. Come over.”

The person chatters at him, but he can’t be bothered to listen. Instead, he hangs up and tosses the phone onto the floor. 

Calmly, Ricky walks over to the bed and undoes all four of Justin’s restraints, letting his arms fall heavily off the sides of the bed. Grunting, he attempts to roll Justin over, swearing under his breath when he gets too much momentum and accidentally plops him right onto the floor. Fine. That’ll still work. 

He looks around for the bottle of lube he’d discarded earlier, slicking both his hands and his dick down with it. For good measure, he also coats Justin with it, watches as it runs down his ass and drips to the floor. He’s about to start trying to warm Justin up when he remembers he doesn’t have to, smiling down at his lifeless body before forcing his dick inside of him. Immediately, Ricky’s nearly overwhelmed with a feeling of pleasure like nothing he’s ever felt before, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, letting his hair fall back over his shoulders. 

It’s good, so good that he’s ready to come within what feels like seconds. He wishes it would’ve taken longer, but it can’t be helped. The orgasm that’s building deep in his gut is already all but blurring his vision and making him dizzy and it hasn’t even happened yet. He pulls out, watching as his dick sprays up Justin’s back a few moments later. 

“Oh… god,” he whispers, collapsing against the bed. As he comes down from the high of his orgasm in the next few minutes, it all starts to really hit him. Part of him feels like it had been sleeping, like it hadn’t known exactly what he’d been doing. Another part, though, feels like he knew exactly what he’d been doing and feels like he’d gotten exactly what he’d wanted, exactly what his plan had been all along. 

“No. Fuck,” he whispers, raising his blood and come stained hands to his head, squeezing his temples with them. “No.”

It had all been an accident, really. Just a messy, tragic accident. Of course he hadn’t meant to kill him. Of course he hadn’t. Well. Maybe he had. Honestly, he’s not really sure. Before, he would’ve said it was an absolutely ridiculous thought. Before, he would’ve fought to the death that he’d never want to do… what he’d done, that all he’d really wanted had just been innocent fetish stuff. But, now? Now that he’s done it, well, he’s not sure he’ll never do it again. He misses him already. Of course he does. He had loved him. Oh God, he’d loved him. But he can’t deny it - he also loves the look of his blood painted across the bed and floor. He loves the sight of his blood stained into the skin of his hands. 

“Rick? Where are you?” 

He freezes. Oh, fuck. Somehow he’d forgotten he’d called Ryan. He’s pretty sure he’d been completely blacked out at that point. There’s no way around it - Ryan’s about to see him in all his current glory. It’s not like he can change it now. He knows Ryan - if he called out to him to try and keep him out, he’d just come in faster. So, no point. He doesn’t get up from where he’s slumped against the bed, just takes a deep breath. 

“I’m in the bedroom,” he says quietly, able to hear Ryan’s footsteps outside the door. The knob turns, the door swings open, and every ounce of color drains from Ryan’s face at once. 

“Rick,-” Ryan lets out in this shaky whisper, his eyes moving around in a way that makes it look like he’s trying to see every detail of the scene before him but also none of it at the same time. “What the _fuck_ , Rick?”

“I, uh…” Ricky tries, but Ryan’s talking again before he can put any thoughts together. 

“Jesus fucking christ. Did you… Is he…” Ryan can’t seem to form thoughts either, but Ricky knows the suggested questions are more rhetorical than anything else anyway. It’s pretty clear what happened. 

“I don’t know what happened. Well, I do. I don’t know why I called you, I guess,” Ricky whispers, and Ryan turns on him, his eyes unreadable. 

“I always fuckin’ knew you’d do something like this someday,” Ryan hits him with, and Ricky is taken aback for a moment. Given the circumstances, it’s the last thing he’d expected to hear. 

“What?” he asks, and Ryan shrugs. 

“I always figured I’d be getting a call from you in the middle of the night to help you hide a fuckin’ body. If it was gonna be anyone, it was gonna be you. I just always thought it’d be Chris that you… y’know,” Ryan mumbles, motioning vaguely to Justin’s body on the floor. 

“Is this like… a thing? Was everyone just sitting around waiting for me to snap?” Ricky asks, genuinely baffled by the idea. Ryan just shrugs. 

“You’ve been asking everyone you’ve ever met if they’d play dead while you fucked them for years, so it wasn’t really a stretch, dude,” Ryan says, and Ricky shrugs. Good point, he supposes. 

“Wait. Were you _filming_?” Ryan asks, stepping towards the camera on the TV stand and bowing so that his head is in front of the lens. 

“Shit. Yeah, I was. It was supposed to just be for the first part, though.”

“You little fuckin’ freak,” Ryan mumbles, turning the camera off. He catches a glimpse of the one in the corner and shuts that one off too before looking back at Ricky. 

“We, uh. We’ve gotta get rid of him,” Ricky says, standing and stretching out his limbs. 

“Yeah, I guess we do,” Ryan responds, looking Ricky up and down. “I do wish you’d put on some clothes first, though.”

**Author's Note:**

> wheresyoursavior.tumblr.com


End file.
